Waiting for Morning (The Brides Of Last Chance Ranch Series) by Margaret Brownley Page B

Roadrunners scurried to get out of her way. A turkey vulture circled overhead. Hurry, hurry. Had to keep going. Couldn’t stop.
    Taking care of Donny and working on the ranch was harder than she ever imagined. She was never at the right place at the right time. Whenever Ruckus or O.T. or Brodie needed her help with the horses or cattle, she was with Donny. Likewise, whenever Donny wanted her, she was either riding the range or knee-deep in muck.
    Poor Donny sometimes had to wait for hours before she could take him to the privy or move him to another location. He never complained, at least not verbally, but she sensed his anger and resentment increasing daily and this only added to her guilt.
    She must have been out of her mind to think she could work on the ranch and still care for her brother. She wasn’t even certain that the desert air was any more beneficial to Donny’s lungs than Colorado’s thin, dry air had been. Donny’s wheezing spells seemed to be getting worse, not better, and it had done nothing to help her own nighttime cough left over from the fires.
    Nearing the ranch house, she spotted the doctor’s automobile parked in front and alarm shot through her. Whenever the doctor came to check on Miss Walker’s horse, he parked by the barn. Was something the matter with Donny?
    Galloping up to the open gate, her jaw dropped. The doctor ran around the courtyard at full speed, pushing her brother’s wheelchair, the little fluffy dog yipping at his heels. Yelling at the top of his lungs, Dr. Fairbanks made funny rumbling sounds. Had he gone mad?
    She opened her mouth to protest but nothing came out. Instead, her thoughts whirled back in time to the day she stood watching in horror as her baby brother’s carriage rolled down a hill. She was only eight at the time, but she remembered that day as if it were only yesterday.
    Shaking the memory away, she yelled for the doctor to stop, but all the whooping, barking, laughing, and rattling of the wheelchair drowned out her voice.
    She rode her horse into the courtyard. “Stop!” she shouted. “Do you hear me? Stop!”
    Caleb halted the wheelchair and Donny’s laughter faded away. All three males including the dog stared up at her.
    She slid out of her saddle and wrapped the reins around thehitching post. Turning to face the doctor, she planted her hands at her waist. “What is the matter with you? He . . . he could have fallen.” Even with the best of conditions the chair wasn’t all that stable and had tipped over several times in the past.
    Dr. Fairbanks frowned. “We were just having fun.”
    She glared up at him. He was even taller than she remembered and she was forced to lean her head back to meet his gaze. His poor judgment only confirmed her earlier opinion of his ability as a doctor. “At the risk of further injury?”
    The doctor stepped away from the wheelchair. “It’s true that your brother’s well-being is endangered, but it’s not from having fun.”
    “The only danger to my brother is you.” If starting a stampede wasn’t bad enough, now this. Donny let out a long, hacking cough. Worried, she hurried to his side. “Are you all right?”
    His face scarlet, veins standing out on his neck, he didn’t answer.
    “Come on, I’ll take you to your room.” Grabbing the push handle, she wheeled him to the steps and stopped. Three steps. Only three steps led to the verandah, but they looked as formidable as a prison wall. Nothing made mountains out of molehills faster than a wheelchair.
    Without a word, Dr. Fairbanks laid his hand on hers. “Let me.”
    His touch sent warm currents up her arm. Cheeks flaring, she let go of the wheelchair and stepped aside. With seemingly little effort, he turned the chair around, tilted it, and pulled it up the steps on its tiny back wheel with an ease Molly could only envy.
    She followed behind. Reaching for the pitcher on the table, she poured a glass of water and handed it to her brother. He took a sip and